


Wake Up Call

by grim_lupine



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Facials, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-28
Updated: 2010-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:04:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grim_lupine/pseuds/grim_lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur wakes up when he feels the bed dip beneath him, Merlin crawling in next to him and settling into the still-warm hollow he’d left earlier. Arthur squints at the bedside clock and realizes the time is obscenely-early-o’-clock in the morning. Merlin presses up against him, bare, skin slightly damp and hot from his shower. A cloud of soap scent rises from his hair, wet and ruffled up so that he looks like a bedraggled kitten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up Call

-

\--

Arthur wakes up when he feels the bed dip beneath him, Merlin crawling in next to him and settling into the still-warm hollow he’d left earlier. Arthur squints at the bedside clock and realizes the time is obscenely-early-o’-clock in the morning. Merlin presses up against him, bare, skin slightly damp and hot from his shower. A cloud of soap scent rises from his hair, wet and ruffled up so that he looks like a bedraggled kitten.

“It’s all right, go back to sleep,” Merlin whispers in his ear innocently, like he knows Arthur will do no such thing. Like he thinks he knows Arthur so well.

(He does.)

Merlin’s all warm and close and _clean_ , and Arthur just wants to— _fix_ that.

Arthur rolls on top of Merlin, pinning him down to the mattress and watching his eyes light up that delighted shade of ethereal blue Arthur can’t find anywhere else in the world. He leans down and licks the thin skin at the edge of Merlin’s jaw, catching a stray water-drop and tracing its path up under Merlin’s ear. Merlin tastes clean and wet, like soap and warm skin and everything Arthur knows he can’t do without.

“Your aim’s a little off,” Merlin says softly, teasingly, and wriggles down a few inches and turns his head a little so that Arthur’s mouth is on his, pressing gently, almost chaste; then Arthur makes a low noise, rumbling in his throat with a little snap to it, and then he’s kissing Merlin wetly and filthily, mouths making little smacking noises every time they part. Merlin tastes like mint toothpaste, so _clean_ damn him, and Arthur makes that rumbling growl-noise again at the thought that when they’re done, Merlin won’t taste like anything but Arthur.

“You’re infuriating,” Arthur says, nosing down Merlin’s neck and chest, licking up all the beads of water sprinkled over Merlin’s pink-flushed skin. “Won’t even let me sleep in on a bloody Saturday.”

“I—told you,” Merlin says, breath hitching satisfyingly when Arthur sucks a bruise into the hollow above his collarbone. “Feel free to go back to sleep, I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“Oh, like this wasn’t all a part of your devious plan to get orgasms at a disgusting hour in the morning,” Arthur says, running his hands up Merlin’s legs, scratching faint lines onto his thighs. Merlin jerks against him, and Arthur can feel his cock hard against Arthur’s hip.

“I’m just an evil mastermind like that,” Merlin agrees, voice quivering a little when Arthur just runs his thumb over the head of Merlin’s cock, lifting it to his lips and sucking off the wet gleam of precome.

“Right, stop talking,” Arthur says decisively, and gets his hand around the hard heat of Merlin’s cock, swallowing Merlin’s surprised little cry into his own mouth.

Merlin’s already making those desperate little noises that mean he’s close, and Arthur wonders if he was thinking about this in the shower, standing under the spray of the water and getting clean while thinking of Arthur messing him up again all the while. Arthur bites him softly, under his chin, and again on the slope of his shoulder, and Merlin pants open-mouthed with his fingers curling into Arthur’s hair.

There’s this sound Merlin makes right before he comes, a little hitch of his breath that’s as familiar to Arthur as the sound of his own name, and when he hears it, Arthur rises up to his knees and watches Merlin come all over his stomach, Arthur’s hand, mouth wet and pink and open. “Christ, look at you,” Arthur murmurs, wiping his hand off on Merlin’s side and ignoring Merlin’s half-hearted mumble of protest. He spreads some of the come over Merlin’s belly with two fingers and watches Merlin pink up some more; he looks wrecked, a mess, and Arthur is so hard it’s starting to hurt a little.

“C’mon,” Merlin says, and somehow rises up enough to flip them over, Arthur on his back and Merlin sliding down his body to get his mouth on Arthur’s cock with no preamble.

Arthur cries out; fists his hands in the sheets and thrusts his hips upward. Merlin just sucks him in greedily, like he can’t get enough of Arthur’s cock, like he wants to just keep him in his mouth forever.

“ _God_ , you—your _mouth_ ,” Arthur says helplessly, half-wondering how he’s still able to form words. Merlin just hums in agreement, fingers spidering delicately up Arthur’s legs, a distracting counterpoint to the wet heat of his mouth. Arthur doesn’t stand a chance.

He’s seconds away when Merlin pulls off, tells him, “Go on, then,” a little heated shiver in his voice; and Arthur’s stomach clenches in comprehension, and he fists his hand around his cock and comes onto Merlin’s face, his neck; it drips down his chin in an obscene slide, shocking against the filthy pink of his mouth. This is a snapshot Arthur wants to carry in his mind forever: Merlin, shadowy lashes closed against his fair skin, mouth half-open with gasping need, looking debauched and filthy and everything Arthur could want.

Arthur can’t breathe.

Merlin’s eyes fly open, snapping iridescent blue; Arthur drowns in them, kisses his mouth clean. Falls in love again.

Merlin’s sly smile presses sharp and toothy against Arthur’s mouth. “Now, aren’t you glad I woke you?” he murmurs, and Arthur laughs and bites him in answer.

“You’re a terror,” he says fondly, amusedly, and means _yes ; always; every time_ yes.

\--

-


End file.
